Eye of the Storm
by Pimino
Summary: Michelangelo was born blind. The simple blessing of seeing his family and the uncommon life they live is something he never received. So when an opportunity arises that could give him everything he lacks, he desperately accepts. But after being confined to a world of uncertainty and inexperience for fifteen years, Mikey didn't recognize his sight came with a price.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep…_

Michelangelo lazily rolled over onto his side, slapping out his limp hand. The wailing alarm clock abruptly ceased as his groggy fingers pounded into the snooze button. Heaving out a lengthy sigh, the youngest turtle swung his resisting, heavy legs over the side of the bed. His routine morning stretches, though, were cut short as he shivered in the cool breeze of the lair.

_Dang vent, _he thought to himself, listening to the faint wheezing and sputtering of the wore-down outlet that resided above his bed. It kinda reminded him of someone gently snoring, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. It often alarmed him in the middle of the night. _Need to get D to fix that…_

Juggling that thought around in his sleep-deprived head, Mikey stood with a little more jump in his step than usual. Although his limbs screamed with drowsiness and a hint of soreness accompanying it, the goofy turtle paid no attention to it. Today was Monday, which meant –

"No training!" he happily breathed to himself. Rolling a few kinks out of his shoulder, he strained his ears as he listened to the faint echoes of someone moving about the lair. The creaking of floorboards, the clanging of metal, and the gently murmuring voices made Mikey smile. Mornings were always his favorite; it reminded him that a new page in his book had opened and was waiting to be written. Not to mention the fact that Raph was usually too tired to attack him for his silly mistakes.

A deliciously familiar aroma wafted into Mikey's searching nose and his mouth instantly watered in response. That was the third-best part of Mondays; Donnie always made killer pancakes.

Mikey began towards the bedroom door, making sure to slightly shorten his third stride. There was a crack in the concrete floor he had come to memorize – or rather his _feet_ had memorized ever since he stubbed a particularly sensitive toe a few years back. Lightly trailing his fingertips over the general area where the doorknob should be, Mikey quickly located the circular metal and twisted it open.

"Mmm, D, it smells awesome in here!" Michelangelo praised as he turned the kitchen corner. His fingers, once again, skimmed the surface of the cool brick walls to direct his motions. His hand dropped to his side as Mikey made his way in the direction of the kitchen table. When his outstretched hand felt the smooth surface of the countertop, he began to clumsily fumble around for a chair.

Seconds passed by, and soon enough, irritation flowered within him. It shouldn't be this hard; the chair should be a little to the left, right? Finally, without question, a calloused hand landed on top of his wrist, gently guiding it to the right. The youngest's palm soon rested on a solid figure and Mikey pulled out the wooden chair, plopping into it.

"G'morning, Mike," Leonardo warmly greeted from somewhere beside him as the fingers left Mikey's wrist.

Mikey broke out into a bright grin as he began to return the greeting, but his nose turned up at an odd scent. "Ugh, Leo, are you drinking tea again?" He sniffed the air once more and playfully stuck his tongue out. "That stuff's nasty!"

"Someone's a little ray of sunshine today," Donnie playfully muttered somewhere behind Mikey. There was a loud shuffling noise, and Mikey soon felt his scientific brother's presence directly behind him. "I made sure to prepare your plate of pancakes first this time. I wouldn't want World War III breaking out again like yesterday…"

"Hey!" Mikey defensively exclaimed as he reached for his fork, which should be a little more upwards and to the left and… aha! Grasping the cold metal in his hand, the youngest continued with, "S'not my fault that you didn't make enough food for _both _me and Raph. The dude could eat a mountain of pancakes and still only have his hunger meter halfway full."

Leo chuckled in amusement and Mikey shoved a forkful of the delectable fluffy food in his mouth. He always wondered what pancakes looked like. He had Donnie explain to him once, but that was a long time ago. Besides, it's not like he understood what Donatello was talking about. What was the color 'golden'? What did 'fluffy' look like? What does 'thick' in 'thick syrup' appear to other people?

They're questions he always had, but answers he never received. And frankly, by this point, he had gotten used to the fact that he was always going to be in the dark – literally.

"So Leo," Donatello stated, drifting into Mikey's thoughts. A scrape of wood against concrete announced he was now sitting at the table with Leo and Mikey as well. "I saw a handful of Foot moving around today on the cameras I set up last patrol. Think it's anything?"

Michelangelo thoughtfully chewed as Leo replied, "Maybe. We can't jump to conclusions though. We'll go check it out tonight and see if there's any activity still occurring."

_Wait - patrol?_

At this, Mikey forced himself to swallow and nearly choked on the barely chewed food as he exclaimed, "Can I go this time Leo? Please!"

It was instinct for him to beg his leader for the simple pleasure of going on patrol these days. He never realized how much he missed hopping around the rooftops of New York City like an eager bunny rabbit until one day, (more specifically two weeks ago,) Leo decided it was becoming too dangerous with the swelling amount of enemy activity. Hope was all Mikey had left whenever the mention of their daily patrol came up in their conversations.

His faith began to deteriorate, though, as it took five seconds too long for the leader to reply. Biting the inside of his cheek, Mikey directed his anticipative gaze to the general area in which Leonardo was sitting. He tried his best to wear his feelings of yearning/anguish on his face although it was hard since he never had someone else to learn from. It was the simplest skills such as tying his mask, tightening his belt, or in this case, looking like a disheartened puppy dog that gave Mikey the most trouble. But he knew he must've been doing _something_ right when finally, after several moments, Leo sighed.

"I don't know, Mikey. What if there really is something going on? We don't need anyone to get hurt."

"Who says I'll get hurt?" the orange clad turtle reasoned. "Come on, Leo! I haven't been topside in forever dude! A turtle can only do so much when they're stuck in some mucky sewers."

"Technically," Donnie began, and Mikey's shoulders instinctively slouched in response, "we spent fifteen years down in these 'mucky sewers', so what's a few more days?"

"'Cause a few more days will turn into a few more weeks and then a few more months…" Mikey drifted off, tapping his fork dishearteningly against the side of the table. He of all people knew it was hard to get their stubborn leader to agree to something Leo already had his mind set on.

_So why does it still hurt so much?_

Leo looked over his baby brother's slouched figure with remorse. "Sorry Mike, I just don't want to put you in harm's way," he tried to soothe. "It's nothing personal."

_So why does it feel like you just punched me in the heart?_

"I know," Mikey halfheartedly sighed, his own hunger meter suddenly reaching 100%. He pushed away the plate and could almost feel the disapproving frown on Donnie's face boring into the side of his head. Somewhere deep inside of him, Mikey knew that the frown's roots came from concern, yet the negative energy associated with it twisted his gut.

"Whoa," Raphael remarked as he wearily strolled into the kitchen. He saw the deep sulk pulling at the edges of Mikey's mouth as he maneuvered his way over to the table. "Why's the clown sad?"

Mikey felt Leo immediately shift next to him. It was a subtle difference in the air, but the youngest knew that Leonardo was in motion. It's a skill Michelangelo was forced to learn since he… had a disability.

His assumption of movement was made clear as Raph suddenly stopped talking. Mikey inwardly groaned. Of course Leo would shut the hothead up; the eldest was constantly patrolling each and every sentence that was thrown in Mikey's direction just to make sure it wasn't offensive in any way. Mikey thought it was ridiculous but hey, if it makes Leo feel better then so be it. Who's Mikey to tell him to stop being so considerate (even though it _did_ come off as mother hen-ish)?

Raphael cleared his throat as he attempted to change the direction of the conversation. "Anyways, you forgot your mask… again," he stated as he came up beside Mikey. The youngest felt a soft fabric touch the skin surrounding his eyes as Raph secured the knot behind his head.

"Thanks," he murmured warmly. Raph gave him a comforting pat on the back before grabbing the large heap of pancakes Donnie handed over.

o-o-o

_To the left._

Relying on his instincts and muscle memory alone, Michelangelo swiftly avoided the blow that was targeting his head. The barely distinguishable vibrations in the nearby air (and the lack of sudden pain he was expecting) wordlessly told the orange-banded turtle the incoming attack was unsuccessful. As soon as he held his ground and was even on his feet again, Mikey strained his advanced, defensive senses. The air shifted slightly.

_Duck._

The agile turtle nimbly lowered his head as the bo staff cut through the air. Knowing that Donatello was most likely planning his next attack, Mikey advanced. The soft creaking of the floors indicated his intellect brother was to the… right and about… three steps forward. That was all the information Mikey needed.

Michelangelo grinned as he swung out his left fist. As expected, Donnie avoided the blow as he swiftly danced away to the right. However, Mikey's second fist was there first. And so was his leg.

Donnie barely had time to register what was happening before a balled fist came in contact with his jaw, followed by a merciless roundhouse kick to the chest. He flew backwards and groaned as his tail hit the wooden floors of the dojo. Shaking his head free of the stars, Don grasped his bo staff even tighter as Mikey began towards him again. The clouded, baby blue eyes were fixed above Donnie yet the scientific turtle got a hunch that Mikey knew exactly what he was doing. Unless…

Just as Michelangelo was within two feet of him, Donatello pounced up onto his feet and promptly yet silently dove _over _his sparring partner. It wasn't a move the ninja team practiced often, and Donnie had decided that this was the perfect opportunity to try it out.

The top of his head lightly skimmed over the top of Mikey's as Donnie did a brief flip. As soon as his feet touched Earth with scarcely practiced accuracy, he swung out his weapon towards Mikey's feet. A bell of victory seemed to chime in the back of Donnie's mind as the youngest went down _hard, _landing heavily onto his shell. It might seem wrong, but Donnie simply could not get it out of his mind that his… disabled... brother had come close to beating him in a simple spar. That would have been an unbelievable upset.

"Aw man," Mikey grumbled as Donnie grabbed his hand and helped him up. "I was so close this time!" He rubbed the back of his head which had slammed against the floor when he fell and painfully winced. "Not cool, D."

Donatello shrugged and sympathetically patted his brother's shoulder in reassurance. "It's okay, Mikey. You'll get it next time."

_Psh, sure I will..._

"Indeed," a deeper voice agreed, making Donnie and Mikey straighten up in automatic respect. Mikey felt his father approaching them and slightly bowed in response as Splinter stopped in front of him. "You have been working hard, Michelangelo. However, you must remember that your enemy will most likely not stay down after they have merely fallen. You must be prepared for the unexpected. We shall work on that next training session. For today, though, we are done."

"Hai, Sensei," Mikey acknowledged, a flitter of disappointment rushing through him. He should've known that. He should've seen Donnie's little surprise attack coming before the scientist even attempted it. He should've known.

Donatello brushed lightly against Mikey's shoulder as the intelligent turtle made his way out of the training room, babbling on and on about his most recent project. Mikey had no doubt in his mind that the Mad Scientist was making a beeline straight for his reclusive lab. Again.

Something warm then touched his arm, and Mikey soon recognized it as a hand. "You comin' Mike? Thought you'd be the _first_ one to leave training," Raph teased from beside him.

Mikey rolled out his exhausted shoulders and tried his best smile. "Yeah. Do you know if we have any pizza left?"

Raph gently chuckled and Mikey heard his voice getting farther and farther away as the hothead began towards the dojo exit. "Dunno. Probably. I'll go see." And with that, he left.

Mikey started after him, his hand searching for a wall to grasp onto, but a soft, motionless presence behind him made him stop a few feet short of the dojo doors.

"Leo, aren't you hungry?" he asked as he reached out a hand and finally located a firm wall. A sense of relief flooded through him at his hand's discovery before he gently quipped, "I don't think anyone's gonna bring you pizza if you stay meditating in here all day."

Mikey heard Leo let out a breath of slight amusement. "I'll come out later. I need to talk to Master Splinter for a second is all."

It wasn't the monotone, straight-to-the-point way that the words were uttered in that peaked Mikey's curiosity; rather it was the uncertain, thoughtful tone that Leo had desperately yet futilely tried to hide that instantly told Michelangelo something was up. Leo rarely ever had to have a private "chat" with their father, and when he did, big news was usually announced to the rest of the family afterwards. Mikey shivered at the memory of Leo announcing that pizza was no longer going to be a daily (or should he say 'hourly') meal.

Red warning flags flew wildly in the back of Michelangelo's head, but he managed to simply nod and say "Okay," before resting his palm flat against his guiding wall. Drumming his fingers while he hummed a joyful song, Mikey trailed them to the dojo exit and quietly slipped out. Then, as soon as he located the handles and slid the doors shut, he rested his ear against them.

A few silent seconds went by, and Mikey was practically on his toes as the anticipation filled him. He beginning to doubt if anyone was still _in _the dojo before Splinter softly asked, "Is there something the matter, Leonardo?"

Mikey heard the faint creaking of floorboards and imagined Leo sitting down at their Master's feet like he usually did whenever in the presence of their Sensei. The sound of his leader sighing soon followed the gentle squeaking of wood as Leo murmured, "Well, yes. It's more of a question though."

"And what would this question be?"

"I'm wondering if… Do you think Mikey should… should come with us? I know this isn't the first time I've had this problem, but now I'm starting to have... doubts. Maybe it would be best if Mikey just stayed down here."

The last sentence was more of a question than a suggestion. In the nail-biting silence that followed, Mikey nearly fell through the paper-lined door as he waited for his father's response. He knew the next sentence would determine his freedom; he could practically feel the burning hope gnawing away at his bones. Mikey would give _anything_ just to go on the surface again.

_Why doesn't anyone else understand that?_

"I do not believe that is my decision to make," Splinter firmly yet gently stated after ten seconds too long. Mikey's confusion at the words was cleared up as Splinter continued. "As leader, you should do what you believe is right, not what others tell you or ask of you."

"But Master Splinter, Mikey… he's just…"

Mikey felt his eyes narrow in newfound suspicion. He's just what?

"I know this is a hard decision to make, Leonardo, but you cannot rely on others to carry the weight of leadership you have willingly obtained. However, I will provide you with this piece of advice; although Michelangelo may have a disadvantage when it comes to his ninjitsu skills, your brother still has desires that often need to be met. The question is whether or not his wishes are worth his safety when situations become difficult."

"Y-Yes, I am aware of that, Master."

Leo went eerily silent after that, and Mikey suddenly felt a bubble of anger burst somewhere in his gut. Of _course_ Leo will think that Mikey should stay home. Why had Leo even bothered to go to their Sensei for advice? The Fearless Leader is so stubborn and narrow-minded that he won't even bother to take Mikey's feelings into consideration either. And by this point... Mikey was tired of it.

_So why am I still putting up with it?_

With that self-defeating thought twisting and turning in his mind, Mikey pulled away from the door and trailed his fingers across the walls until he reluctantly reached the kitchen. Even the smell of baking pizza didn't lift his spirits in the slightest.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**If you are wondering, this fic may seem familiar to many people. I will explain why:**

**My newest friend (I won't say her name considering the safety of the Internet, haha) had this plot bunny constantly nagging in her mind. Therefore, she decided to write and post it to FFN with my help. Then, after hours of talking about it and with me coming up with so many ideas that she lost track, she said ****_I_**** should just write it and she will help me along the way. And thus, it was posted onto my account with minor changes made to the first chapter. Just fyi, her username was Pezzii (which I had helped her come up with, explaining why we both have the same profile pic and her username also started with "p" XD) and if she has anything she wants to say with each chapter, I will make sure to add it into the author's notes. So... yeah.**

**It would mean the world if you reviewed/gave some sort of feedback. Hugs and cookies to those who do(:**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

At the kitchen table, Mikey was silent and withdrawn. He never engaged the conversations nor did he answer questions with more than one syllable words. His outlandish behavior struck a feeling of curiosity in both Raph and Donnie, but neither of them questioned the youngest, fearing that if they did, an eruption of unknown emotions would burst from the goofiest member of the family.

Unknown to his two clueless brothers, the fact that Leo never came to receive a slice of pizza like he said he would silently drove Mikey up the wall. Not only was the youngest still seething over the "chat" his leader and his father had, but Leo's absence at the kitchen table added fuel to Mikey's blazing fire of anger.

However, instead of voicing his concerns, Mikey irritably bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his cold pizza with antsy fingers. His fidgety actions didn't go unnoticed, though. As soon as his plate was swept clean, Donnie abruptly stood and made a tactical retreat for his reclusive lab in order to escape the tense atmosphere his baby brother was creating. Then, it was just Raph and Mikey.

"Didn't think I'd ever see the day where you didn't finish at least two entire pizzas," Raphael remarked when Mikey finally pushed the plate away. Once again, Mikey only gave a slight head nod and the corner of his mouth weakly lifted in an attempt of a smile. Frowning, Raph added, "What's wrong?"

_Excuse, excuse – I need an excuse!_

Mikey simply shook his head and quietly stated, "Tired."

"That explains why you were bouncing off the walls durin' training," Raph dubiously said, his ever-present sarcasm woven tightly to his words. "Just tell me, Mike. I won't say a word to Fearless, Don, or Splinter if that's what you're worried about."

"It's nothing; I promise."

Raphael rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You don't exactly have a clear history with your 'promises', Mike. Dr. Prankenstein and I have had a few good runs over the years if you ask me. So just tell me what's botherin' you."

Mikey suddenly went quiet, and Raph could practically see the gears working in his younger brother's head as Mikey decided whether or not to open up his heart. But a few seconds later, Mikey simply stated, "Nothing."

"Nothing my ass," Raphael grumbled with a frown. "You're an awful liar, you know that? You should just –"

"I'm _fine_!" Mikey snapped, his clouded eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. Instead of feeling remorse from riling his visibly pained brother, a familiar surge of anger ripped through Raphael like a hurricane. He opened his mouth to argue –

"Guys, the Foot are on the move. Look at the cameras," Donnie blurted as he burst into the kitchen. He teetered his laptop on the palm of his hand as he made his way over to the table, completely unaware of the minor argument that had just occurred. Mikey slouched back in his chair with a frown as he heard the _thump _of the computer rest on top of the wooden surface.

_It's not like I can see what's happening on the screen anyways._

"The hell?" Raphael questioned after a few moments of studying the glowing screen. "What are they carryin'?"

"Don't know," Donnie replied. "I'm guessing that whatever it is, it's not good news – at least, not in the Foot's hands. There are a ton of boxes, but none of them have been opened, so I can't see what's inside them. It's not like I expected them to make this _easy_ for me or anything…"

Raphael cursed underneath his breath as he continued to watch the live video. "Can't see a damn thing," he groaned, his chair squeaking as he leaned closer to the screen with squinting eyes. "Pourin' cats and dogs out there."

"That's the other problem," Donatello sighed as he rubbed a hand behind his neck. "We can't see where they're going. There's a limited range of visibility since it's raining so hard."

Mikey almost bitterly laughed at the last sentence. _"Limited range of visibility,"_ he grimly thought as he deepened the uncharacteristic frown which rested on his face. _"Tell me about it."_

"What's wrong?"

All three turtles jumped at the demanding voice. Mentally, Mikey degraded himself for not hearing his older brother coming long before Leo had announced his presence.

_Fifteen years of training your hearing and you're _still _slacking…_

While Donnie and Raph had to turn around to greet Leonardo, Mikey continued to stare blankly ahead. He could already feel the argument that was sure to come, but that doesn't mean he was going to give into Leo either. In this world, you are either a commander or a follower. And Mikey believes he's been trailing behind everyone else for far too long.

"Foot," Raphael answered, shattering Mikey's thoughts. "They got a shitload of boxes, but we can't see anything."

"Are they still out there?" Leo questioned, coming to a stand beside Mikey as he glanced at the computer screen. Mikey almost cringed away from his presence but miraculously managed to keep his body in a somewhat natural position.

"Yes; I think they'll be out there for a while. There's a lot of them, so it's taking longer than it would have with a small delivery. I would be surprised if Karai wasn't expecting _someone_ to get suspicious with all this activity," Donnie answered with a thoughtful expression plastered onto his face.

Raph, still straining his eyes to study the screen, asked, "You saying she's expecting us to come or something?"

"Most likely. She's a little on the dark side, but she's smart nonetheless."

"We're going," Leo suddenly stated without missing a beat. At this, Mikey cautiously sat back up in his chair with interest.

"And I'm going too, right?" he questioned, drumming his fingers nervously against his knee underneath the table. He wondered if he sounded too accusatory but quickly dismissed the thought. Leo didn't know Mikey was listening to his little "chat", so as long as Mikey doesn't give anything away, Leo won't have a problem.

However, silence is all that greeted his question. It lasted for far too long, and eventually, Mikey felt the slight shift in the air as Donnie uncomfortably shuffled on his feet. A few more long-suffering seconds passed and the weight of the tense air seemed to balance itself on Mikey's shoulders, reminding the disabled turtle of the freedom Leo was holding _just_ out of his reach. Finally, Raph expectantly cleared his throat, and Leo let out a breathy sigh. Mikey held his breath.

"No, Mike, you're staying here."

He was expecting this. He was completely anticipating this answer.

_So why do I suddenly feel sick?_

Michelangelo abruptly stood up, kicking his chair behind him with more force than intended. Instead of the pulsating anger he was expecting to be filled with, a harsh wetness accumulated in the corners of his eyes. "Th-That's not fair! I want to go too! Dude, you can't just expect me to stay down here for the rest of my life!"

"I don't expect that, Michelangelo," Leo resolutely retorted. However, everyone in the room could hear the soft hint added to his words. "But for now, you will stay down here. It's too risky with all those Foot soldiers, and not to mention the heavy rain. Maybe another ti –"

"There won't _be_ another time, and you know it!" Mikey all but yelled. Blinking rapidly, he futilely attempted to flush the tears from his irises. "This is the hundredth time you said I couldn't go! _Please_, bro!"

"We… We need to go, Leo," Donatello nervously interrupted. Mikey could hardly hear his purple clad brother shifting his weight from foot to foot over his heavy breathing. "If we wait any longer they're going to be gone."

Leo swallowed heavily and looked at his baby brother's face who was not looking at him in return. The cloudy baby blue eyes were focused dead ahead, but Leo knew he was still being addressed by Mikey. It's something you got used to. "Mikey, I know that this is hard to understand, but –"

"You've got to be kidding," Mikey quietly mumbled, slumping backwards into his chair in heavy defeat. His sharp memory miscalculated where he had pushed his seat back, though, and before he could do anything about it, he ended up slamming his funny bone into the corner of the backrest.

Yelping in pain, Mikey grasped his trifling injury and fought back incoming tears once more. Whether the water threatening to leak from his eyes was from pain or frustration, he wouldn't know. All the fight within him vanished just as quickly as it came, leaving him oddly weak and unstable as he massaged his incessantly tingling elbow.

Suddenly he realized – or rather _felt_ – that all eyes were on him. And he also came to notice how no one reached out to ask if he was okay.

_They must be used to my screw-ups by now..._

Those irksome tears of his came flooding back even stronger, but he fiercely pushed them away, dropping his throbbing arm as he irritably 'relaxed' into his chair. In the devastating hush of the kitchen, he sniffled once but thought nothing more of the harsh sadness threatening to overwhelm him.

_No, I'm not going to cry. I'm not._

"Next time, Mike," Raph softly attempted to reassure after many moments of silence. "Promise. Alright?"

Michelangelo didn't respond. He simply rested his good elbow on the tabletop and put his head into his palm, refusing to acknowledge his brothers' quiet goodbyes as they slipped out the lair. As soon as they were gone, all promises made to himself to not cry went straight to hell. A single tear filled with swimming emotions escaped his misty blue eyes, but he swiftly swiped it away when his common sense whipped him right across the face. Why is he so upset this time? He has been through this multiple times; it's not anything new.

_But maybe that's the problem. I've gotten too used to it._

"Michelangelo." Mikey nearly jumped out of his shell at his Master's voice. Splinter was the only one who could catch him by surprise. The experienced, aged rat can move as swiftly and quietly as he pleases, making it harder for the youngest turtle to pinpoint his location sometimes.

Blinking away a few lingering tears, Mikey respectfully replied with the strongest voice he could muster up, "Yes, Sensei?"

"Are you okay, my son?"

"Y-Yeah." For good measure, Mikey lifted his head from his palm and gave a small smile in his father's general direction. "I'm good. Just a bit… tired."

_Tired. It's a good excuse for anything, apparently._

"Very well," Splinter replied somewhat warily. Standing, Mikey stretched his limbs and began towards the kitchen door, eager to escape any more questions that might be thrown his way. He made sure to swerve around his father when he sensed Splinter's warm body heat affecting the chilly air surrounding the rat. The sewers were hardly ever a sensible temperature considering it was underground and filled with stale, unmoving 'water'.

Trailing his fingers across the wall, Mikey walked until he felt the light switch of the kitchen, indicating he was near the exit. Before he left, the youngest gently called out behind him, "I'm gonna go lie down for a bit. Yell for me when the dudes get back."

Not waiting for a reply, Michelangelo followed his engraved mental map and made his way in the direction of his bedroom. Feeling over the surface of the first door his fingers came in contact with, Mikey assured it was indeed his bedroom after his fingertips skimmed over the small, hardly noticeable indent that resided near the doorknob. That minor dent was obtained to his door the same time Michelangelo learned in the middle of the night that his bedroom door was not, in fact, an intruder.

Slipping inside, Mikey left the door slightly ajar and waited until the barely audible squeaking of the dojo doors indicated that Splinter had gone back to meditating. Making sure to elongate his first step as to not have his toes make another undesirable greeting with that damned crack in the floor, he went three paces to the right, reached up an arm's length, a little to the left and… aha, there were his nunchucks!

It's time he took his life into his own hands.

* * *

><p><strong>AN **

**We (Pezzii and I) are so inexplicably happy that we received such positive feedback from you all! Thank you to those who left a review; it was nice to see your reactions to the first chapter(: And so, we hope you enjoyed this update as much as you did the first. By the way, hugs and cookies to those who reviewed last time and those who will hopefully review this time as well!**

**Until next time ~**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

He hadn't been topside for quite a long while. What had it been, two weeks? Maybe three, give or take. That period of time could explain why it had taken him an absurd amount of effort to merely locate and pull his way out of the sewers. Nevertheless, his searching fingers that had previously been dragging along the slimy sewer walls soon managed to grasp the rough edges of the manhole cover, and with a rather noisy scraping sound, he was finally back to the surface after two long-suffering weeks.

Mikey instantly knew it was raining even before he stuck his head out of the hole in the ground. The deep, comforting scent of the heavenly water struck his sense of smell _hard_ but made the corners of his mouth turn into a grin. It would be a lie if he said he didn't like the stormy change of weather; the warm sunshine and scarcely windy days become too boring and predictable after a while. A bit of variation in his life every now and then would keep him on his toes and open up his limited world to a new, grand experience. Too bad everyone in his family is set on the fact that everything, even Mother Nature, must be absolutely _perfect_ for him to do any sort of activity.

However, despite the heavy downfall cascading around him, the familiar sensation of New York seemingly swept Mikey right off his feet. He could feel the rumbling of cars rushing on the asphalt roads shake the ground beneath him. He could hear the brief, distant yells of frantic people calling for taxies before their fancy clothes got too wet for their liking. He could smell the cigarettes humans are so fixed on smoking mixing with the overwhelming gasoline burning in the air. Most would find the busy atmosphere of New York City to be overpowering, but Michelangelo did not. Rather he was utterly and completely delighted, almost _ecstatic. _He almost wondered what the Big Apple looked like, but quickly dismissed the thought. No use in wishing for the plainly impossible. He'll just stick to the wonderful scent, sound, (and even possible taste) of NYC. If only everyone else could see the simple pleasures he saw.

But his brief happiness could only take him so far. There were other important things to attend to. With a huff of effort, Michelangelo pulled the heavy manhole cover across the ground until he heard the soft _clatter, _announcing the circular hunk of metal had fallen back into place in the hole in the ground. He paused for a moment, wondering if he would be able to catch up with his patrolling brothers, but soon thought better of it. Although he was eager to get started on this new adventure, Mikey knew it was best if he rather had his brothers come to _him_. Tapping the manhole cover with his foot once or twice to make sure it was securely fastened, Mikey pulled out his T-Phone.

As he attempted to keep the worst of the rain from hitting the small device, he gently ran a finger across the innumerable buttons. The small bumps and dips in the custom-made phone Donatello had given him provided all the information he needed. When compared to his other brothers' T-Phones, Mikey's seemed elaborate and tedious; the alpine braille and various touchpad sound effects were fun to play around with, but hard to fully fathom – that is, for everyone who isn't experienced with lacking a certain capability.

But for Michelangelo, he had already reached a level of skill it would take years for his brothers to achieve. That, he decided while thumbing a few buttons of the phone, was a minor upside of his unique life. Soon enough, the T-Phone was softly ringing in his ear, the chime barely audible over the downpour of rain.

_"Mikey? You okay?"_

Michelangelo let out a puff of nervous air and wobbled back and forth between his two feet. "Yeah Raph, I'm fine. More than fine actually," he added as he tilted his head back and opened his mouth wide, letting a few drops of sweet rainwater plop into it. As he savored the heavenly water, he grinned wickedly and said, "But just to let you know, I'm not going back home. No matter what."

Silence.

_"Wait guys, hold up. Mikey said he… he's not-… Mikey, are you on the surface?!"_

"I really like the rain. You guys should've taken me up here before while it was storming," Mikey plainly stated, cupping a hand in front of his body and relishing the small puddle that he felt form inside of his palm.

_"Mikey, what the hell? Get back underground, right now!"_

The youngest suddenly dropped his hand, letting the collected rainwater splash onto his feet, much like his playfulness and his fruitless attempts to beat around the bush. "No."

_"No? Fuck, Mike, we don't have time for this! Get back in the damn sewers!"_

"I'm staying up here, and I'll stay up here aaa~ll night, even if you dudes don't come get me."

_"Mikey you can't – Leo back off, I'm trying to talk to him! … Yes, you idiot, I'm telling him to get to the Lair! … What the hell, Fearless, I'm working on it if you would just shut up –!"_

Mikey swiftly ended the phone call with a simple touch of his finger. He didn't exactly want to hear another round of bickering between his two eldest brothers. And so, with his imagination running wild with the thought of all the trouble he is going to get into for directly disobeying his leader, Mikey gingerly sat on the wet ground, feeling the loose gravel bite welcomingly into his leg skin. But that's not the only sensation he was focused on. He felt the fresh rain wash away his troubles, the rumbling of the Earth shake off his worries, and the pungent scent in the air muffle his anxious thoughts as he waited for his siblings' decision.

o-o-o

Michelangelo couldn't stop the subtle smile that managed to creep onto his face as he trailed his muttering, hotheaded brother. Raphael had put up quite a fight when the sai wielder finally located the youngest near the sewer entrance. Many harsh, colorful words were spoken that Splinter would most assuredly not approve of, but Mikey gave it his all when he flashed his signature puppy dog eyes, and soon enough Raph couldn't keep denying his baby brother. However, Mikey's pleadingly adorable face didn't soothe the hothead's everlasting irritation.

"Fucking Leo's gonna whip my shell…" Raphael grumbled underneath his breath for the umpteenth time, making the youngest's smile widen. The continuous snarky comments only added to the goofy turtle's happiness, but he stayed quiet. Instead, he focused on his ragged breathing. They had only been across three rooftops so far, but those minor sprints took the breath away from Mikey – and even more so when they leaped from one building to another.

"Jump short… now."

Mikey immediately obeyed the hothead's command, gasping slightly as his feet left the damp ground. He managed to keep his exhilarated mind off the fact that he was suspended in air and rather focused on the designated jumping distance. Whether the jump was short or long was a big impact on how hard the youngest catapulted his body. If he accidently managed to mess up his jumps even in the _slightest _way possible, it could lead to serious injuries. Leonardo had given him the lecture about rooftop leaping multiple times.

In fact, the leader was entirely against having this whole "spoken jumping distance" system in the first place. He complained it was too risky, too unpredictable. What if something went wrong, he said. What if Mikey doesn't listen, he questioned. What if the others accidently miscalculated the jump, he demanded to know. But after hours of convincing from Donnie, reasoning from Mikey, and continuous ranting about being over-controlling from a certain hotheaded turtle, Leonardo gave in, but not entirely happily.

_At least he listened to me about _something _for once…_

"Jump long… now."

Mikey pushed with his legs again, feeling the edge of the rooftop with his toes just as he left it. His stomach fluttered with utter joy as he sailed through the pouring rain before his feet landed on yet another rain-slicked surface of another building. But he wasn't quick enough to steady himself before his left leg slipped out from underneath him.

Yelping, Michelangelo barely managed to catch himself with his hands before his face could meet with the unforgiving concrete. Heart racing hysterically, he felt the countless amount of pebbles biting into his palms' skin, but the minor pain of the rocks were nothing compared to the way Raph grasped his upper arm and quickly pulled him back to his wobbling feet.

"Shit!" Raphael gasped, and Mikey could feel the sudden body heat of his brother next to him. "Damn it Mikey, be careful!"

"I'm s-sorry!" the youngest reflexively replied with a terror-stricken voice. Swiping his trembling hands on the sides of his legs, he wiped the lingering pebbles from his palms and attempted to calm his pounding heart in the meantime.

His clutch on his sibling's arm loosening ever so slightly, the older of the two shook his head with a frown. "This… this might be too dangerous, Mikey. Maybe you should…"

The way he drifted off did not go overlooked by Mikey. He knew that Raphael didn't want to say it out loud, similar to how Mikey did not want for it to happen. "I'm _fine_, Raph. Just slipped a little; no big deal, right?"

"It's gonna be a 'big deal' when you fall off the edge of a fuckin' skyscraper!" Raph barked, and Mikey instantly shrank underneath his brother's hurricane of fury. Shaking his head, Raphael quietly muttered, "Leo was right. This is too dangerous."

"Leo doesn't know what he's talking about." Shrugging off his brother's grasping hand with an attitude he rarely shows, Mikey repositioned his arms, crossing them in front of him in a defiant posture. "I'm not two years old; I can handle myself. I don't need you dudes babying me all the time."

Raphael stared dead into his brother's peeved face, emerald eyes flashing dangerously. "We're not _babying _you, Mike. All we're tryin' to do is help you out when you need the help. I don't see a problem with that, and neither should you."

He wanted to scream that there _was_, in fact, a major problem with that. He wanted to pound into his brother's head that all he wanted was some taste of independence, some sliver of normality. He craved to say all of that, and more. But Michelangelo's anticipated strong, outspoken voice betrayed him, and he was left with a meek, shaky tone instead.

"I just –" Suddenly, tears welled in the corners of Mikey's eyes, and he was so startled by them that by the time he realized what the sudden wetness meant, a victorious tear had already escaped. Trusting the rain rivulets running down his face would hide his sudden weakness, Mikey struggled to continue over the downfall of water but managed to keep his voice strong enough to be heard. "I just _hate _that everyone treats me like… like…"

Lifting his hands, he gestured suggestively, and his brother immediately picked up on the hint.

"Like you're blind," Raph simply stated.

A sudden lump in his throat constricted Mikey's pattern of breathing, adding to his confusion as to why all these abrupt emotions were overwhelming him. None of these situations were new; he was often denied access to the surface, he was constantly fussed over, and he _knew _he was blind. That information wasn't a bolt out of the blue.

_So why is this becoming such a surprise to me all of a sudden?_

"Y-Yeah," Michelangelo quietly stuttered, suddenly feeling small and fragile in his brother's presence. Another rebellious tear managed to slip from the corner of his eye, and he prayed to whatever deity was out there to pray to that Raphael hadn't noticed. A sudden boom of thunder overhead snapped something in Mikey, and before he could do anything about it, he burst with the flash of lightning he was not able to witness. "It's just… it's just _not fair!"_

The sudden eruption from his innocent baby brother made Raphael's heart sink along with any other anger he was previously feeling. Mikey felt the drastic change in his brother's demeanor at his final sentence, and suddenly felt very, very childish. He hadn't said those two little words since he was tenderly young.

The excited bursts of energy about a new comic book his brothers had found or the weird way a bug was shaped quickly sent the generally optimistic, seven-year-old-or-younger Michelangelo into fits of frustration and blistering anger. For too many times to count, he would sob into his father's comforting fur, wondering why he out of all of his family received the horrid curse that restricted him from everything and anything. Worse, it restricted him from his _brothers. _He knew that his disability created unbearable distance between him and his siblings, and yet he could do nothing about it.

And so, young Michelangelo sobbed, screamed, wished for something, _anything _to give him a normal life. But as time moved on, so did he. And now, after eight years of dismissing the thought of a peaceful life, after eight years of reluctantly accepting the fact that he was never going to be like his brothers – like _everyone _else in the world –, fifteen-year-old Michelangelo grieved for the first time. He couldn't find it within him to wipe his face clean of his salty river of tears that he knew his brother had noticed by this point.

"Mikey –"

Raphael's tender voice was cut short as the hothead's T-Phone sang in alarm. Tearing his eyes away from his brother's tear streaked features, Raph pulled out his handheld device and held it to his right ear while his other hand plugged his left ear, preventing any outside noises from drowning out his leader's voice. "Leo, what's up?"

As his brother listened to their leader's response, Mikey took deep, calming breaths, trying to find some peace somewhere in his heart. After a few moments, he finally found the energy to lift his hand and slowly began to smear the tears into the rain water that collected on his face.

"…Damn it. You're kidding, right?"

By the urgent tone those words were ushered in and by the way he could hear Leo raising his demanding voice on the other side of the line, Michelangelo instantly knew that his leader was certainly not kidding.

"…Alright. Be there in a few. Don't do anything stupid, Fearless."

Over an abrupt clasp of thunder, Mikey heard Leo's mumbled reply get cut off as Raph ended the call. Another rumble in the sky shook the youngest's core as Raph grimly commanded, "Come on. Apparently, tons of Foot just showed up. We need to get moving; no time to bring you back to the Lair."

Raphael didn't wait for a reply. As soon as the water-logged _slap, slap, slap _indicated that his brother was running again, Mikey clumsily followed. However, this time around, he was constantly stumbling over his own feet and comprehending Raph's rushed jumping commands nearly too late. He could swear that leaping the rooftops wasn't as magical as it was before; rather, it sent a jolt of fear down his spine as he thought of the possibility of him falling, something Leo had always warned him about, but he never gave it much of his attention – until now.

And to top it all off, the rain was suddenly feeling too cold.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**Hm, yeah, okay this was a very long chapter compared to the others. Sorry; Pezzii and I wanted to make sure everyone got a full share of details from Mikey's perspective! Speaking of that, how _were_ the details? Too many, too little, just right? Please let us know so we can improve(:**

**And I am so sorry for the lack of updates for my other stories! It is just easier to write Storm because there are two people going at it at once, which means chapters get written faster. I hope to have more chapters posted for all my stories this weekend. I promise(;**

**Thank you to those who have reviewed and to those who will hopefully review this time!**


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